


Vice

by imiriad



Category: Real Account (Manga)
Genre: Choking, Face-Fucking, Fight Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imiriad/pseuds/imiriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuma thought Mizuki was too tempting not to take advantage of. He should have guessed the opposite was just as true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vice

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place around Chapter 37 of Real Account II.

“You’re still following me?” Yuuma glanced over his shoulder at Mizuki. One of the nurses had left them with a key to a car in the hospital's visitor lot. It was honestly suspicious—not that Yuuma really cared. If it was a trap, he’d face it like he did everything else, and come out on top. Now that the DQN Marbles had disappeared, there'd be a commotion stirring at the hospital gates, and that would be a real pain in the ass to deal with. Better to take the long way out, back through the tunnels they'd used before. Mizuki was content to trail behind him. “Don’t you have something to do?”

"That nurse was one of my followers..." A lazy smile slid over Mizuki's face as he made a V sign with his fingers. "Mission complete."

Yuuma scowled. He was hoping this was his chance to finally get away from him for a few hours. Oh well. At least Mizuki was useful in a fight, and since he was his follower, Yuuma could count on him to back him up. ...As long as he felt like it, anyway. Yuuma shook his head, muttering under his breath, "A nurse who follows a suicide site? There's something seriously wrong with that." Though it did explain her oddly cooperative behavior.

"Hey..." Mizuki's airy voice echoed in the empty space. "Are you really going to go find that girl?" Yuuma didn't feel like wasting his breath on the obvious. Mizuki continued on, undeterred by the silence, "It's like you said before... With me following you, she's totally unnecessary, you know..."

Yuuma had to stifle a laugh at that one. It was technically true, but... "You really think I would trust _you_ with my life? You'd probably love that, wouldn't you? Then you could pick whenever you want to kill yourself and take me along with you." Mizuki's eyes darkened at the prospect. Without him saying a word, Yuuma could tell exactly what sickening things he was thinking. He reached out and caught a handful of Mizuki's messy, black hair and tugged hard, satisfied when he heard Mizuki yelp. "I'm not that stupid." Besides, he had until 10 to help Ayame complete her mission. She was a far more reliable lifeline for him, but if Yuuma couldn't find her for whatever reason by then, he'd just unfollow her before it could bite him in the ass. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

"Mmm? Well, it was worth a try..."

Yuuma glared at him, but his mind was going over Mizuki's earlier words. Had he really already completed his mission? Yuuma hadn't kept his eye on Mizuki the whole time in the hospital, but he should have caught Mizuki having his mark scanned... Yuuma glanced over Mizuki's body. The mark wasn't on his palm like Yuuma's, and he hadn't seen it on either arms or his shoulders before. Surely he would have noticed if Mizuki had taken off his pants in the hospital, so it probably wasn't on his lower body. It didn't really matter, but sheer boredom overcame Yuuma's inclination to keep quiet. "Where is your Marble Mark anyway? I didn't notice the nurse taking a picture."

The corner of Mizuki's lips quirked. Yuuma thought he would easily oblige him, but Mizuki was apparently going to enjoy Yuuma's brief interest as much as he could. "...Why don't you try to find it for yourself?"

"Are you worried what I'll do if you tell me?" Yuuma let the amusement sink into his voice. "I'm not your follower... If I decide to take a picture of your mark, you'll probably go _splat!_ like the rest of them."

There it was again, Mizuki's strangely angelic expression—if angels were psychotic killers. Yuuma had seen the way he used a knife, how well he fought. A guy didn't get that way by killing only willing participants.

"If you want to after finding it, it's fine by me," Mizuki said happily. Yuuma suddenly wanted to kick him, anything to get that stupid look off his face. Thankfully, it faded when Mizuki's lips twitched into a smirk. "I don't think you'll be able to, though."

Yuuma kicked him anyway.

How hard could it be to find a stupid tattoo? There were only so many places it could be. Yuuma scowled. On one hand, Mizuki was clearly trying to manipulate him, but Yuuma's desire to show him up was stronger than his annoyance. "You're on, then." _And when I find it, I'm definitely taking a picture._

He pulled at Mizuki's clothes; first was his shirt, tugged upward to expose his midriff. Just blank, pale skin. The light definition there was a surprise to see, though not unexpected. Mizuki wasn't particularly buff, but he was well-built and sturdy. Yuuma could tell as much from when he'd carted him around earlier.

Yuuma remembered their first encounter, back when he was still the "other" Yuuma, the fake—a thirty second countdown, the dense weight of Mizuki's body, his strength holding him down. The way he was now, he would have been able to shake Mizuki off without any help. But the memory of it was still there, the heart-pounding pressure with Mizuki's hollow eyes staring him through.

A shiver ran down Yuuma's spine without his permission, and an equally unwelcome thought came next— _it wouldn't be a bad way to die._

Yuuma growled and shook his head to clear it. The shredded fabric at the shoulder of Mizuki's sweater made a sharp noise in protest as Yuuma yanked it off.

"Owww, I just got medical treatment, you know." Yuuma gave a glower to the thick white bandages covering half of Mizuki's chest. There was the possibility the mark could be under them, especially considering how much skin it obscured. It'd explain Mizuki's sly confidence, but Yuuma couldn't accept such a convenient answer right away.

"Shaddup." Yuuma couldn't see a spot out of place on his chest. He quickly circled Mizuki, eyes drawing quick, focused lines across his back. Nothing. Mindful of Mizuki's shoulder (if only because his whining was starting to grate on his nerves), Yuuma lifted both of his arms and examined the skin of his sides, the underside of both arms. The telltale black symbol wasn't there, but another kind of mark marred Mizuki's deathly pale skin. "What's all this here?" Yuuma murmured, mildly curious. He had noticed the thin lines crisscrossing Mizuki's forearm before they had found a change of clothes, but there were more than he thought. Numerous slashes from elbow to wrist; some long faded, while others were very recent. Still, it wasn't what he was looking for. Yuuma dropped Mizuki's arm and caught him by the chin.

"Knife testing, maybe," Mizuki said. Yuuma let out a laugh through his nose and tilted Mizuki's face, scouring every angle of his jaw. With his fingers against Mizuki's neck, Yuuma could feel his pulse throbbing, uncharacteristically rapid. He paused to listen in the distance, wondering if Mizuki had heard something he hadn't, but there was only the sound of their breathing.

Yuuma raised his head to look at him. Mizuki's eyes were dark once again. Not tickled by Yuuma's failure, like he guessed Mizuki would be. His mouth wasn't even smiling. Instead his lips were slightly parted as he inhaled through his nose, patiently waiting for Yuuma to continue his examination.

 _Fucking pervert._ The thought didn't have any real weight to it as Yuuma stepped behind him once more. He combed through Mizuki's hair, pushing the errant strands away from the nape of his neck. Nothing. Nothing but the way Mizuki's breath caught, just barely. He ran his thumb lightly over the skin, surprised when it caused Mizuki to shiver.

"Give up now?" Mizuki asked after a moment, breaking Yuuma from his daze.

He backed away from Mizuki. His upper body was clear—aside from the bandaged area. But that wasn't all there was to check. "Take off your pants," Yuuma barked.

"Ehhh? Yuuma-kun, isn't that rather _forward_?" Yuuma rolled his eyes and decided it would be faster to just do it himself. He squatted down, hooking the waistband of Mizuki's pants and dragging them to his knees. Black briefs. He could have guessed as much.

Mizuki was quite slim for his large frame, with wide shoulders, long legs and a broad back. Yuuma was a normal guy, but he could feel the difference between them as plain as day. If Mizuki put the time and effort into some weight training, the guy could turn into a real musclehead. It was a ridiculous image he couldn't help but snicker at.

The search, however, was proving less positive and more frustrating by the minute. Mizuki's thighs were clean, as clean as the top of his thin hips and—when Yuuma tugged off Mizuki's pants completely—his calves, as well.

"Fuck." He did have one, right? Mizuki was a player the same as them. Yuuma glanced up, and caught Mizuki's wide smile. His eyebrow twitched, and his grip tightened around Mizuki's ankle. With a heavy yank, Yuuma upended Mizuki's foot, dropping him right onto his ass. There was a loud thump and a disappointingly hollow "Wah..." to accompany it.

Now that Mizuki was off his feet, Yuuma could inspect the soles and the backs of his ankles, but it was just as fruitless. Small scars and bruises, a few stray moles, and no Marble Mark of any kind.

Yuuma turned his eyes toward Mizuki's briefs. Did they stamp his dick? A dick pic for an execution, what a way to go. Or maybe it was on his ass. No wonder Mizuki had been expecting him to give up before he found it.

But Mizuki had one thing mistaken. Yuuma didn't give a fuck about looking at another guy's cock. Big deal. He saw his own every day. Mizuki's eyes widened with surprise when Yuuma's fingers slipped into his briefs. "It's here, huh?" Yuuma couldn't suppress his feeling of smug victory as he pulled them down.

"You are really determined, huh, Yuuma-kun?"

No mark on his dick... Yuuma scowled at it. It was a good size, but Yuuma was sure he hadn't gotten much use out of it yet.

Probably.

Though, that nurse from before had been a little too cooperative for a simple follower... and Mizuki had managed to surround himself with people despite his unsettling demeanor. If someone was going to commit suicide anyway, who's to say they didn't want to screw around a little first?

Yuuma had thought the obsession his classmates had with sex was mostly just posturing. He had only fooled around briefly with Nanako, and while it had been enjoyable, it wasn't that big of a deal. But the thought of Mizuki, that mother complex knife-wielding weirdo who wanted to follow him around like a puppy dog, having more experience than him in _anything_ irrationally bothered him.

He pushed Mizuki's legs apart, checking the skin between his legs more carefully this time.

"Don't you think if someone comes along, they'll get the wrong idea?" Mizuki was leaning on his elbow as he commented, as if he was totally detached from the scene.

"Like I care. Someone would have to be crazy to come down here anyway." Yuuma grabbed Mizuki by the leg and spun him onto his stomach, sure that he'd finally find the mark on his ass.

There was nothing there.

Mizuki hadn't said a word this whole time, letting Yuuma strip him down entirely, probably enjoying it—both the act of it and watching Yuuma flounder. "You asshole! It was under the bandages this whole time?" Yuuma got to his feet, pissed off that Mizuki had managed to make a fool out of him.

Mizuki rolled onto his back, unconcerned by his nudity, and stared up at him. "So you're giving up." Mizuki's voice, normally thin and light had become as sharp as one of his knives.

Yuuma stepped on his chest, just shy of his injury. He didn't miss the way Mizuki's face twitched as he pushed some weight onto the tip of his boot. "I ain't giving up. I'll rip them off right now if you want." It was an empty threat—for the most part. After everything he'd gone through to get Mizuki treatment, it wasn't really worth sending him back again.

"You have to at least _guess_ where it is, Yuuma-kun... A lot is covered by my bandages!" Yuuma's eyebrows furrowed again, and he raised his foot, setting it on the other side of Mizuki's body. The mark could be on the shoulder, the chest, or the back. Yuuma just had to make a blind guess. No, he thought harder. He'd seen Mizuki's shoulder when he'd been injured, and caught a glimpse of his chest while he was being examined by one of the nurses. So it could only be the back—or maybe his underarm.

Mizuki smiled again, mouth closed. Though his eyes bespoke of his true amusement watching Yuuma, he seemed restrained in his expressions since their little "game" had begun. When Mizuki was really enjoying himself, his mouth spread and curled at the edges, as if he was about to burst out laughing. Yuuma had seen as much when they had run into each other the day before. But—there was something odd about the memory of Mizuki's delighted face. The glimpse of a dark spot, where his tongue should have been...

Yuuma's eyes narrowed. He squatted down over Mizuki's body, hand flying forward to pry open his jaw. Mizuki instinctively fought against him, but Yuuma slipped his thumb between his molars, depressing the back of his tongue hard enough to make Mizuki choke on his saliva. _There_ it was. Stamped right onto the center of his tongue, a black Marble Mark. Yuuma grinned in victory, and applied more pressure to the soft spot just under Mizuki's chin, squeezing his jaw hard. Mizuki made a muffled noise, but Yuuma held him like that for awhile longer, enjoying the stupid look on his face as he started to drool on himself. Not quite as good as the one he'd made at the end of the previous game, but not bad.

Through having his fun, Yuuma let go. He did feel satisfied over completing the little scavenger hunt, the same way he'd felt when completing a crossword puzzle, and just as meaningless. He'd wasted too much time on this garbage. Once Mizuki got his clothes back on, it was time to go pick up Ayame.

But Mizuki seemed to have other plans—the instant Yuuma released his hold on Mizuki's tongue, it curled around his thumb almost playfully. The sudden wetness slithering against the pad made Yuuma stiffen. His stomach rolled once at the odd sensation, and a second time when he saw Mizuki's face. Those sleepy, half-lidded eyes drooped even lower than usual, eyebrows relaxed, as if he was intently focusing on fellating Yuuma's hand.

The hell was he doing? Yuuma pulled his thumb free, and found his hand caught in Mizuki's. This time, Mizuki brought two of Yuuma's fingers to his mouth, licking the sensitive skin between them, then scaling to the tips and sucking them into his mouth. "You're a real sicko," Yuuma said. To his annoyance, his voice wavered.

Mizuki smiled around his fingers, and let Yuuma draw them out. While his hand felt sticky and cold, the rest of Yuuma was getting warm. Come _on_ , he wasn't actually getting aroused by this, was he? The look Mizuki was giving him told him that yes, he was, and that it was obvious. "You're right. But I'm not the only one, am I?" Mizuki murmured.

Cocky little shit.

Instead of letting Mizuki get the best of him, Yuuma would do him one better. He sunk his free hand into Mizuki's hair and dropped onto his knees. "Oh yeah? If you really want to follow me around, you'll have to make yourself _useful_." The implication was not lost on Mizuki, not even for a moment. Yuuma should have known that Mizuki was crazy enough to go along with it, but it was still an uncomfortable surprise when he simply opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue.

Something in his core was throbbing incessantly, and it pissed him off to realize it was his dick. Yuuma couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to jerk off. It had to be sometime before this whole mess started. The excitement and danger from ReAcc's death-defying games had been coiling in his body for days, so why shouldn't he take the opportunity to relieve himself when there was a convenient outlet for it? That it was Mizuki of all things should have disgusted him, but instead it only made him grin. From how Mizuki had been acting lately, Yuuma could probably get away with doing whatever he wanted with him.

Yuuma pushed Mizuki's head down to the floor and repositioned his knees on either side of his neck. The weight on his shins locked Mizuki's shoulders against the ground—and yet Mizuki's eyebrows hadn't risen a millimeter in shock. Instead, he licked his lips, as if awaiting a full-course meal.

Yuuma suddenly thought of the raw cuts of meat Mizuki loved so much and frowned. Though he had been gentle and downright seductive with his fingers, Yuuma felt less sure about leaving his dick in Mizuki's care. "If you so much as nibble on my dick, I am tying you up just like this and leaving you behind." He would have preferred to threaten Mizuki with death, but knowing him, he'd just look forward to it. No, leaving him behind was a much worse punishment in his twisted mind; that was what finally made Mizuki's eyebrows twitch, his lips pressed together in a pout. "Got it?" Yuuma asked, leaning back on his legs with his body weight.

"Yes," Mizuki said, and that was enough for him. The pressure was building. Yuuma unfastened his pants, pulling his cock free from the confines of his boxers. Ayame wasn't bad looking, and he'd walked in on her in the shower, but the memory of her naked body didn't excite him nearly as much as this.

His erection was firm in his hand as he looked down. "Open wide and say 'ahh,' _Mizuki-chan_." Mizuki was, as he expected, obedient, even down to the sound he made when he opened up. Yuuma pressed his cock against his tongue and groaned when Mizuki closed his mouth around him.

It was warmer than he'd been ready for. Once, Nanako had carefully sucked at the head of his cock. It had been so, so good, even if she hadn't been able to make him come like that and finished him off with a simple handjob. Yuuma felt slightly guilty to admit that this was a hundred times better, as he pushed forward to fill Mizuki's awaiting mouth. Mizuki made a rough noise—of objection or acceptance, Yuuma couldn't be sure—that vibrated around him, flowed somewhere just below his navel and nested there.

Yuuma couldn't resist his impulses, and with Mizuki, there was no reason to. He jerked his hips harder, as far as he could manage in the unusual position, which was nearly all the way. Yuuma didn't even bother waiting for Mizuki to get comfortable before roughly pulling out and thrusting in again, his fingers grasping at the long strands of hair over his ears.

His hands were trembling, he realized, mid-thrust, but so were Mizuki's. While he'd been pin-focused on the warmth of his mouth, Mizuki's hands had dug into the white denim at his thighs. Mizuki's eyes were as wide as Yuuma had ever seen them, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed. Every time Yuuma dove in with a huff, Mizuki matched him with a similar sound. His tongue moved against the underside of Yuuma's cock as he took him deep.

Mizuki was enjoying it.

"I knew there was... something wrong with you..." Yuuma's words came out between pants. Maybe that was why he felt so at ease with him. He didn't want to admit that Mizuki had been right about him the first time, that they were both similarly empty. They had matched each other's pace infuriatingly well in their fight the day before. And just like then, their bodies accepted one another easily, blended together.

Yuuma leaned forward, dropping a hand to the ground as he fucked Mizuki's mouth. "Y-You like sucking dick, huh...?" With a sharp tug on Mizuki's hair, he pulled his head back and made Mizuki take him to the base, into his throat. "Well?" Yuuma gasped as he felt Mizuki squeeze around him, and held back a sob. He caught his breath, his head spinning, and asked, "Are you going to answer me?"

"Huhmmahun," Mizuki blubbered around his cock. Yuuma gave him points for effort. He slowly slid backward, savoring every wet touch of Mizuki's tongue as he pulled out. Mizuki took this as his time to speak, even with strings of spit and precome crisscrossing on his chin and neck. "Yuuma-kun's cock... tastes delicious."

Yuuma brushed the tip against Mizuki's cheek. "You're really getting off on this." Mizuki only smiled in answer. After all, Yuuma was the same as him. Twisting his body, Yuuma dropped one hand to Mizuki's stomach and drew a swirling path until he found what he wanted. "Looks like it." Yuuma curled his fingers around the base of Mizuki's cock, keeping focused on his face. The length twitched as he gave it a squeeze, and Mizuki let loose an open-mouthed gasp.

It was warm and heavy in his hand. A little thicker than he'd expected it to be when hard. Yuuma turned his head to examine it and nearly groaned as an even more tempting thought surfaced in his mind. He'd already gone this far... why not have a little bit more fun with him before they left? Yuuma had started experimenting with anal stimulation out of mild curiosity after reading some stupid sex posts online. Despite the oddity of shoving his fingers up his ass the first few times, he eventually found what really worked for him. In the end, he hadn't been able to keep pretending that it was just an irrelevant experiment—not when he'd ordered a buttplug from an online store. Hopefully no one would search through his closet while he was away from home.

Mizuki's cock was bigger than what he usually used, though not by much. Yuuma wondered if his body was prepared for it. Either way, he knew he'd take up the challenge. His fingers brushed against Mizuki's mouth, and he ordered, "Lick." As obediently as before, Yuuma felt Mizuki's velvet tongue glide over his skin, sucking softly. Mizuki raised his eyes this time and Yuuma met them. His stomach dropped. Blank darkness that Yuuma could stare into forever, an ambiguous mix of submissive exposure and cloaked danger. It gave Yuuma goosebumps. Shit.

With his other hand, Yuuma dragged his pants and underwear past his hips. He moved his spit-slicked fingers to his ass, pressing into the tight ring of muscle. A long, slow breath, and he could start to relax, and work on easing the stiff muscles in a familiar motion.

"Yuuma-kun," Mizuki breathed. The coy tone to his voice faded, replaced by genuine unsureness. Surprised by whose ass he was fingering? He'd been ready to give his own up for Yuuma without a word, huh? That was pretty amusing. Maybe he'd let Mizuki have his wish later on. "Yuuma-kun, if you're going to..."

Yuuma clapped his hand hard over Mizuki's mouth to muffle his voice, not wanting, and plainly not caring to hear what he had to say. "Just shut up for five minutes." Yuuma's words weren't nearly as commanding when he was panting, pushing another finger into his ass and spreading himself wide. Even so, Mizuki obeyed, his lips falling shut under Yuuma's palm. Yuuma shifted backwards, positioning himself in Mizuki's lap. He'd initially considered calling it his payment for having to bring him all this way—but seeing how Mizuki's dick was already dribbling with anticipation, this was practically a reward.

Yuuma dropped his hand from Mizuki's face to his cock, spreading the precome until it slid smoothly in his fingers. There was something about how Mizuki jerked that made Yuuma think he didn't have quite as much experience as he'd worried about. With a breath, he raised himself up and over the tip of Mizuki's cock. "Now don't you dare fucking move." He wasn't intending to have sex with Mizuki after all. No, Mizuki was more of a pet than a partner, a convenient object he'd be using to get off. As insulting as it sounded, Mizuki would probably enjoy being thought of like that.

The tip of Mizuki's cock pressed tight against his hole, until Yuuma exhaled and added his weight. Now _that_ was more like it. Fuller than his fingers, and so much warmer. Slowly and steadily, Yuuma took it in, letting his back arch as he shut his eyes. Not as difficult as he expected. Maybe he'd been desperate for a moment to himself, an opportunity to really unwind. He wouldn't let it go to waste now that he had one. Yuuma enveloped the full length of Mizuki's cock, unable to stop the low moan from spilling free. "Fffuuuuuck..." That pressure against his prostate, and the absurdly delicious feeling of being spread wide, penetrated him.

His hand moved to his erection, curling two fingers around the base. It wouldn't take very long for him to come, but he was going to savor it. Yuuma closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Mizuki any longer (his cheeks flushed, still staring, tongue skirting his bottom lip), and cleared his mind, focusing on sensation. A long, slow stroke on his cock, from base to tip that made his gut twist as he shifted his weight. He raised his hips a careful inch before dropping back down. That was all it took for it to go straight to his head.

Yuuma teased himself with light touches, ignoring that way that Mizuki's thighs tensed against his ass, how he gasped when Yuuma wiggled his hips hard. Mizuki's body was so hot, reactive, and Yuuma swore he could even feel his dick move in his ass when he tightened up. No matter how much he tried to push those things away, it was blindingly obvious how much better it was than masturbating on his own. But he'd never want to let Mizuki figure that out.

Mizuki was shifting under him slightly. Yuuma could hear his rustling, reaching for something, maybe? But he was doing well keeping his hips still, and that was all that mattered right now. Another pump of his cock and Yuuma could feel the heat starting to build. He froze, sucking in a slow breath to stave it off a little longer. Mizuki moved under him again, and the sound of metal clinking against the floor was too much for Yuuma to ignore. He opened his eyes, and instead of Mizuki's face, his gaze was met by the black case of a smart phone and the flash of a camera. It took a lot for Yuuma to actually get flustered, but finding himself on film in the middle of getting off sure did the trick.

"Kurashina, you ass!" Yuuma could have kicked himself. He'd overestimated Mizuki's submission, thought he would have happily took this experience and not done a thing to jeopardize it. But Mizuki was different from the average person. He enjoyed making Yuuma angry, liked it when he hit him, and had an honest death wish. Yuuma lurched forward, snatching at Mizuki's phone. It came away so easily that Yuuma nearly lost his balance. Mizuki had simply let go when Yuuma grabbed it.

The reason why was obvious in the next instant. Mizuki was aiming for something else altogether. Those long fingers lashed around Yuuma's throat, thumbs pressing down hard just above the Adam's apple, and closing up his air supply. The phone clattered to the floor as Yuuma clutched Mizuki's wrists, digging in his nails and scratching hard. Mizuki's grip didn't loosen by a fraction. The world was already swimming as he tried to breathe—and then it twirled.

His shoulder blades slammed hard onto concrete.

Mizuki was over him now, grinning. One hand dropped—relief for a second, a single quick breath, until the remaining hand clenched harder to pick up the slack. Yuuma could feel his face tingling. Mizuki pulled apart his thighs, so that he could sink his cock back into Yuuma's ass.

If Yuuma could have gasped, he would have, but all that came out was a wheeze. His nails pierced deeper, and Mizuki started to move, thrusting hard and full into him. Warmth spread through Yuuma's gut as Mizuki continued, pounding him without concern or delicacy. In a second, Mizuki had managed to turn the tables on him and now he was the one being used as a toy, a fucking pocket pussy for his leisure. "Fuck... you," Yuuma ground out, barely audible. Mizuki's eyes sharpened, coal to obsidian, and his smile widened in that way of his.

He fucked him harder. Yuuma could hear his heart thudding in his chest, louder than anything else, even the sound of Mizuki's hips ramming against his own. His hands were weak now, trembling impotently as they slipped off Mizuki's forearm. Yuuma's whole body tensed, tightening around the intrusion. Mizuki shuddered in response; his fingers twitched and gave Yuuma one half-breath of leniency before closing firm once more.

Yuuma's thoughts were languid, dragging, as his eyelids fluttered. Unconsciousness hovered at the edge of his vision and his eyes burned, but fuck, a jolt shot through his spine each time Mizuki pushed inside of him. His head lulled in Mizuki's grip, mouth gaping. Mizuki was moving again, the cuff around his wrist clinking against the floor as he searched for something. Ah. Of course. Yuuma could make out the phone in his hand.

"You should see the look on your face, Yuuma-kun," he cooed, voice vibrating in Yuuma's ears.

 _Click_. The jarring flash of the camera.

Mizuki turned his eyes to the screen and his smile grew larger. " _This_ is so much better than that fake despair you gave me last time..." As much as Yuuma hated the smug look on his face, his cock didn't share the same reservations. A rebellious moan formed in his throat as Mizuki nailed his prostate; even the pain couldn't do a thing to coax it away. It was making his toes curl, his body throb.

Orgasms were completely different with something in his ass. They started from that spot in his gut, ricocheted through his pelvis and gathered in his balls. Built up further, compounded, until he couldn't take it. Yuuma's eyes started to water. Mizuki only choked him harder, snapping another picture of whatever awful, desperate face he was making.

It was fucking good.

Better than masturbating. Better than anything he'd ever endured before. His cock was aching, and each frenzied thrust into his ass drove him closer to the edge. His sight was hazy, tunneling, and he _loved it._ He shook uncontrollably as Mizuki fucked him, and then he was there.

It felt like an explosion. Shocks so powerful they scattered through his whole body, spreading outward in waves of pleasure. His vision flashed white (or maybe it was another photo) and his cock twitched as he came hard, jizz splattering against his t-shirt. Yuuma suddenly felt grateful for Mizuki's hand around his throat, for stifling his overwhelmed scream into an ineffectual rasp.

Mizuki's breathing was harsh, as rough and fast as his thrusts. "Yuuma-kun..." It took concentration to make out Mizuki's quiet moan. "You feel so good. Wouldn't it be wonderful for us to die together like this...?"

Yuuma blinked, trying hard to focus. Mizuki's eyes came into view, staring at him with adoration and cruelty. They were beautiful. And arrogant.

Yuuma gathered his strength into his left arm. He swung it as hard as he could, driving the metal cuff around his wrist into Mizuki's temple. Whether from shock or pain, Mizuki's grip around Yuuma's throat fell. Yuuma gasped deeply for air as he took another swing at Mizuki, and kicked out his legs to push their bodies apart.

Mizuki leaned over to reach for him, but Yuuma was already prepared. Hand clenching a large tangle of hair, Yuuma wrenched Mizuki's head downward as he raised his knee high. Both connected with a loud _thwack._ The impact was solid on his bones, and Yuuma was sure he'd have a bruise there later. But it was apparently enough to finally knock some sense into the bastard.

Mizuki backed off, lifting a hand to his swelling brow. Yuuma took the opportunity to scramble further away from him, until there was a reasonable distance between them. His heart pounded against his ribs and his head was still spinning, but at least Mizuki's expression had returned to its normal state.

"Owwww..." Mizuki's voice was the usual half-hearted whine. "Yuuma-kun, that hurt."

"You... fuckin' done—Kurashina?" Yuuma growled between harsh pants, raising his head to glare. His chest heaved so hard it ached.

Mizuki held his hands up in surrender. "Well, the moment's lost now. It was a good one, too..." The light tone had a trace of real disappointment as he sighed.

Yuuma let himself relax slightly. "I swear... You piece of shit... I should just... leave you here..." Now that the tension had left his body, he was filled with a strange, almost pleasurable numbness. The only thing he could hear was his breathing, his body thrummed in time with his pulse. But as tempting as it was to stay there and drift off, he couldn't laze around here. Time was wasting, and now he knew for sure he couldn't count on Mizuki as his sole follower.

With a groan, Yuuma climbed onto his feet and stood up. Mizuki stayed sitting on his knees, watching silently and waiting for approval. Yuuma's legs wobbled like jelly from exhaustion and the lingering effects of adrenaline, but he soon stabilized himself—and froze. The awful sensation struck him as he straightened: something wet and slippery running along the inside of his thigh. For real? Those last moments while he was still inside him, when Yuuma had whacked him in the head, _that_ was when Mizuki couldn't hold it in anymore?

Yuuma gave him another sharp look and pulled up his pants. "Get dressed already, asshole. Or I really will leave you behind." Mizuki's lips curled into a smile as he got up, pleased that Yuuma would still let him tag along. Like Mizuki wouldn't just end up stalking him the whole way if he'd rejected him. Yuuma walked forward and held out his hand. "And let me hold onto that for you," he said flatly, gesturing to Mizuki's phone. To his credit, Mizuki didn't hesitate at all before handing it over, and went about gathering his clothes.

Yuuma immediately opened the photo app, browsing through the most recent pictures in his folders. " _Ugh._ " The disgusted noise slipped out of his mouth the second the thumbnails appeared on the screen. He selected the oldest one first and grimaced. It was a full-on porno-style shot of him riding Mizuki's cock and jerking himself off.

"That's a really great one, isn't it, Yuuma-kun?" Mizuki's voice was against his ear now, and the weight of his head settled on his shoulder. He sounded way too amused for Yuuma's taste.

Yuuma clicked on the trashcan icon and confirmed the picture's erasure. "I'm deleting all of them."

" _Ehhh_?" Mizuki sounded like a child who was being punished. "I won't show anyone, I promise..." Yuuma rolled his eyes. That didn't mean anything. Even if Yuuma believed him (which he didn't), previous ReAcc games had players snoop through each others' phones, or had shown off their contents to the world. No fucking way was he going to let his orgasm face get plastered all over the internet. Yuuma scowled at the next picture. Mizuki's first after he'd started choking him—a dazed and tortured expression. Helpless. And now, gone.

"You like them that much?" Yuuma scoffed. "I'll stop if you actually prefer a bunch of photos over the real thing."

"Of course, it's way better if it's you in the flesh, but..." Mizuki paused mid-sentence, the gears turning in his head so obviously that Yuuma could almost hear them creaking.

The last, and most recent, photo slid into the frame. Yuuma examined it with irritation. In it, his eyes were wide and unfocused, his face flushed red as saliva dripped from his chin onto Mizuki's hand, clutched tight around his throat. He'd been on the brink of passing out at that time, but his wicked, open-mouthed grin proclaimed that he'd been having the time of his life. Yuuma shrugged his shoulders hard to dislodge Mizuki's chin and took a step, trying to ignore the rare embarrassment sweeping over him.

It had been... incredibly fun. One last glance and he deleted that picture, too.

Mizuki moved forward to follow him, head tilting to the side like a dog. Looked like the shallow cut on his temple had already stopped bleeding. What a shame. "Yuuma-kun," he murmured, "does that mean you'll show me that face again in person?"

Yuuma rubbed at his sore neck, clicking his tongue, and tossed the phone back to Mizuki. "Do you ever shut up?"


End file.
